


2AM

by dongyrn



Category: Firefly, RWBY
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 15:24:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8061649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dongyrn/pseuds/dongyrn
Summary: A series of late-night musings as I simultaneously wrestle with my subconscious and my writer's block, as well as my own insecurities, which is a fulltime job in and of itself. Inspired by dayzejane's 3AM and 4AM stories.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first few chapters are regarding my first major fanfic, Nothing in the 'Verse, that I wrote within the Firefly fandom.

I look over at the clock on my computer screen. It read as 2:06am.  "Bollocks," I sigh. "Why am I up so late again?"

"'Cause you can't stop writin'. It's become an addiction."

I glance over my shoulder to my bed. A lanky woman with brown hair tied back in a ponytail is lying there in tee-shirt and cargoes, booted feet crossed at the ankle as she reclines on the pillows piled up at the head.

"Feet off the covers, Dani," I reply nonchalantly, turning back to my screen. "And it's not an addiction, I can quit anytime I want."

Dani snickered, and didn't make a move. "Then why are ya still awake?"

"Because I'm tryin' to get this right!" I yell despondently. I look over at her, suddenly suspicious. "Why the hell are you here?"

"Don' ask me," she shrugged. "I'm just a figment of your imagination. Who am I, really?"

"Huh?" I ask intelligently, swiveling my desk chair around to face her, reclining back.

"Me," she repeats. "Who am I to you?"

I sigh. "You're the person I wish I could be. Happy?"

Dani snorts in amusement. "If I'm the woman you wish you could be, you got a serious case of masochism,  _ pengyou _ ."

"Not so!" I declare. "I just gave you lots of character!"

Dani snorts again, and starts to tick items off on her fingers. "You kept the same pissant alcohol tolerance that you have now, you got me shot, beaten almost to death, raped," she paused there, "thanks alot for that one, by the way..."

"Hey, you know it wasn't easy to write it," I protest, "but it was necessary character development. You needed to heal, and it brought you closer to Lori. Speaking of whom," I look around the room curiously, "why isn't she here as well?"

Dani threw her head back and laughed. "'Cause I know you, an' she's mine, you wrote her as mine an' I don' wanna share."

"Fine, fine," I grumble. "Bet she wouldn't give me such an attitude."

"You kiddin' me?" Dani asks incredulously. "Want me to start in for her as well? Shot with a gorram spear gun, poisoned, reduced to a prize to be fought over..."

"Oh and tell me you didn't like that last bit, it appealed to your white knight complex."

"I do not have a 'white knight' complex," she answers loftily.

"Sure, hon, you keep tellin' yourself that," I grin. "Anyways, back to the points earlier, I gave you lots that I wish I could have, or be like, y'know? You're strong, independent, confident, badass shot with a pistol,  _ feng li _ pilot..."

"Alright I’ll give ya those," Dani mused. "I do 'preciate the flyin' you let me do. It's fun."

"And if I ever tried those kind of maneuvers, I'd be spewing all over the bridge," I smirk.

"Then what about Keith?"

"Huh?" I once again respond intelligently. These topic changes were beginning to give me a headache.

"My brother, based off your real-life brother. Talk to me about your relationship with him." Dani looked at me intently, arms crossed. “Your brother, not mine.”

I sigh again, much heavier this time, and lace my fingers behind the hair I'm trying to grow out. "Yeah, okay, that's wistful thinking as well.  Dani and Keith have the kinda relationship I wish I still had with my brother. Early on, it was a story of redemption in a way, but now it's like they've never been separated. I used to be like that with him.  Now..." I shrug. "Not so much."

"And why is that?" Dani inquires.

"Ever since he went off to the Marines... no, before that even. When I went off to college is when it started. He lived with Donna and I for awhile when we were first married, but I don't know if it helped any. And now, we're so much older, and he just has a different life, y'know? I'm widowed with teenaged girls, he's married with no kids, lots of friends they hang out with, party and travels all the time..."

"So is that why you haven't told him you're a transgender lesbian?"

I bark a rueful laugh. "Yeah, most likely. I just don't know him anymore, how he'd react... sometimes he's still my brother, sometimes he's such a Marine. And still a hothead like our Mom."

Dani sat there for awhile, looking at me. I just look back. "Even though you're a figment of my imagination, I really can't tell what you're thinking right now."

Dani smiles gently. "I'm thinking... maybe you need to have a little faith."

I snort disgustedly. "I lost my faith awhile ago. Three years actually, more than. Not that I don't believe, I just don't feel like I can connect anymore."

"Not God, you  _ bendan _ . Your brother. How will you know if you don' try?"

I shake my head. "Gonna have to eventually, won't I? Can't conceal the changes, been on HRT since the start of the year. I'm gettin' boobies, other things will start changin'. So I know, it has to happen eventually. I'm just scared."

"Of his reaction?" she asks, perceptively.

"That, and of losing him for good," I whisper. I wipe the tears from my eyes. "Gorram hormones."  I look up at the woman still lounging on my bed. "How'd you get so wise if you're a figment of my imagination?"

"Maybe I'm your conscience, instead," she smirks.

"No, that'd be Donna," I smirk back. "Hope I've been doin' her justice with Beth in the story."

"You have, sweetie," she smiles gently at me. "An' you know she'd want you to be happy, no matter what."

"Yeah I do, that's why I wrote her the way I did." I scrub my eyes irritably. My contacts feel like sandpaper. "I really gotta get to bed, you know I can't seem to sleep in anymore. You got any song requests?" I turn back to the computer, closing down all programs but the media player.  _ Always gotta listen to music before bed, helps me to relax _ .

"I still like 'Shut Up And Dance'," Dani comments from behind me.

I grin. "Yeah me too, can't help but bounce around to it. You gonna move so's I can get the bed ready?" I glance back but Dani's gone.

"Right," I murmur, double-clicking the song. I get up and bounce on my toes as the first notes of the song start up.  _ Couldn't have danced like this when I was 80 pounds heavier _ , I muse to myself. Twirling around, I head to the bathroom to take my contacts out, singing loud and, per usual, off-key.

"Oh don't you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me, I said you're holding back, she said shut up and dance with me..."


	2. Chapter 2

I rubbed my eyes tiredly. I really shouldn’t be up this late, yet again. Even though I was working from home the next day, I had shit to do, and I still had to get work done.

It was starting to become an obsession, almost. The early episodes I just banged out, trying to get the ideas out as soon as I could. Sometimes a couple episodes in a day, the shorter ones only a couple thousand words.

But these later ones, upwards of ten thousand words or so, I had to take more care with. I was starting to develop the characters more, I had several threads of the story going... I started creating more notes, things like a character matrix to keep track of them, one whole doc just for the timeline...

“You really need a break, hon,” said a voice from behind me.

I swivel my chair around to see Dani standing at my bookcase. She’s fondling my Mal Reynolds replica pistol. She’s wearing her white tank top, showing off her scars, obviously more comfortable with them now, and her usual cargoes and combat boots.

“Now why can’t I get a shiny gun like this one,” she muses.

“‘Cause that’s not the model I gave you, Mike and Cali get that one,” I explain patiently. “Look on the shelf above, the M1911 replica, that’s more like what you have.”

“Huh,” she grunts, putting the Moses Brother’s revolver down and examining the other. “Okay, I can get behind that.”

“So you just here to go through my stuff?” I ask curiously. Haven’t had a visit from my subconscious in a while, maybe there was a special occasion.

“Nope, just came by to chill,” she responds nonchalantly.

“‘Chill’ isn’t really very Firefly of you,” I observe.

“ _ Wen wo de pigu _ . That better?”

I have to go pull up my doc of all the phrases I use, there’s so many gorram ones... “Oh, ‘kiss my ass’, nice, thanks for that.”

She gives me a smirk and plops herself down on my bed.

“Make yourself comfy,” I snark.

“I believe I will,” she snarks back

Right, snarking isn’t all that effective when it’s a figment of your imagination.

“So, you gonna take all this seriously now?” she asks, threading her fingers together behind her head.

“Wait, I thought you said I need a break?”

“You do, a break from the writing. You’re going down to your sister-in-law’s tomorrow, right? An’ then to that fancy Whedonesque workshop?”

“Yep,” I smile. “Should be fun.”

“So you’re gettin’ serious, then.”

I sigh, closing my eyes. “Either you’re making less sense, or I am. Why am I up this late again?”

“Escaping reality, I suppose,” she replies.

“Really? I thought I used computer games for that,” I muse thoughtfully.

“You used to,” Dani answers. “Now the writing is your drug of choice.”

I let out another sigh. “I just like telling the stories, I like putting what’s swirling around in this brainpan of mine to paper. So to speak.”

“And you got most of the good ones out already, right?”

“Not necessarily,” I argue. “I’m up to episode 34 now, and I have planned out to 45.”

“And what happens after 45?”

I sit there for a minute. “Yeah, I’m having some trouble deciding where to go after that. 45 kinda ties most things up, Sara’s good by then, Kelly’s back...”

“And me an’ Lori are still together...” she trails off.

“What?” I ask suspiciously.

“I’m just afraid of what you’re gonna get out of Saturday’s class,” Dani explains hesitantly.

“Like what?”

“Okay, so what’s the common theme of Whedon, all of his movies, his shows...”

“Strong independent women?”

“Well, yes,” she smirks. “An’ you got that one down to a T. But there’s another one...”

“Ooohhh,” I murmur, suddenly understanding. “You mean his penchant for killing people off.”

“You know the joke,” she smiles. “Joss Whedon and George R.R. Martin walk into a bar...”

“...And everyone you’ve ever cared about, dies. Yeah, I know,” I chuckle. “So you think I need to kill off somebody?”

“No!” she exclaims. “That’s just it, I don’t want anybody to die! Especially since I know who’d it have to be!”

“Alright, this I gotta hear. I’m not saying I’m entertaining the notion whatsoever, but let’s hear it.” I sit back and fold my arms expectantly.

Dani leans forward earnestly. “Almost every single character, major character in your stories is based on a real-life person in one way or ‘nother. Right?”

“Ah, okay, I see where you’re going...”

“Right, except for Lori. She’s your ideal, the kinda woman you wish for. And she’s the only character you could kill off, without guilt, and yet she’s the  _ last _ one you should kill off!”

I blink my eyes a few times. “Annnnd there you lost me.”

Dani stares at me intently. I realize that my descriptions of her bright green eyes really don’t do them justice. 

“She represents hope,” Dani explains gently. “Your hope for who you could someday end up with. Your hope to someday find love and companionship again. And you absolutely cannot kill that off.”

I let a breath of air out in a whoosh. “Right. That’s deep. But spot on.”

“I know, right?” she smirks. She looks over her shoulder towards the closet. “Oh, my time’s up, someone else needs to talk to ya.”

“Wait, what?” I’m confused once again. “I didn’t realize this was a night for appointments.”

She smiles at me. “Last thing, then. Believe in yourself.”

I sigh, rubbing my eyes again. “Easier said than done,” I mumble. When I open my eyes again, Dani is gone.

“What is this, a Christmas Carol?” I grumble, turning back to my computer. “Who’s next, the Ghost of Christmas Past?”

“How about me?” giggles a young voice.

Whirling back around, I see Sara sitting crossed-legged on my bed. She’s got a baggy tee-shirt on and leggings, looking more like the real-life person I based her on than the character herself.

“Aren’t you a little out of character?” I ask curiously, giving voice to my musings.

“Maybe,” she grins, pulling out a butterfly knife a twirling it around rapidly. “This better?”

“Creepifying, more like,” I mutter warily. “Never could figure out how you do that, I’d likely lose a thumb.”

“Likely, yep,” she agrees. Sara closes the knife and returns it to her pocket. “So, let’s talk.”

“Sure sweetie, what about.”

“Well, me of course.”

“Alright, I’m game,” I answer humorously. “What’s on your mind?”

“Do you know where you’re going with me, my character?”

“I do!” I exclaim triumphantly, pulling up my mega-doc of all the episodes. “See right here, you have your crisis, existential dilemma and all, and then the next one you resolve the crisis! Two eps, all better!”

“Really, just two episodes?” she asks, skeptically.

“Well I’ve been building up to it,” I explain. “But it’s important for me, to get this resolved, to make you whole again. Should be good writing.”

“An’ you ain’t gonna let me die?”

“Why is everyone about the death tonight?” I throw my hands up disparagingly.

“Oh don’ be such a drama queen,” Sara scoffs.

“Alright, look, if it helps you sleep better, hell if it’ll help me sleep better, I do have a death planned as a shock value, but it’s not gonna be a main character, okay?”

Sara hops off the bed to see where I’m pointing and reads the synopsis. “Hmmm... okay that’s kinda cruel, but it could work.”

“Cruel?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Alright, fine I’ll grant you that, but it’ll work.”

“Just one thing I need to remind ya of,” Sara says calmly as she takes her butterfly knife out, twirling it around in front of my face.

I gulp nervously. “Yes?”

“Remember I told Lori never to break Dani’s heart. Same goes for you, if you kill off Lori it’ll break her heart, an’ I won’t have that.”

“ _ Ai ya, huai le _ , why is everyone assuming I’m gonna kill off Lori? I won’t, I promise!”

Sara tucks her knife away again, and walks off towards the closet. “I’ll remember that,” she tosses over her shoulder.

“Gorram kids are gonna be the death of me,” I grumble, turning back to the computer.

“I heard that!” she calls out. “And go to bed!”

“Fine!” I yell, shutting things down. Sleep would be good, if only I didn’t get my best ideas in the wee hours of the morning, which forces me to get up and start writing them down...

“Don’t suppose Lori could make an appearance, help me relax? Quick back rub, that sorta thing?” I ask hopefully to my room.

The answering silence is deafening.

“Can’t even get my gorram subconscious to do what I ask,” I grumble some more, shutting off the computer and heading for bed.


	3. Chapter 3

I let out a soft sigh, stretching my arms above my head.  _ I gotta get up and move around some. _

As I did, the clock on my computer screen showed 2:28am.  _ Yay for new records. _

“Got anything decent to drink around here?” a gravelly voice asks from behind.

“Oh dear God, here we go,” I grumble, sitting back down and swiveling the chair to face the figure reclining on my bed. “Why’s it everyone has to sit on my bed?”

Keith glances around the room. “You got anyplace else to sit?”

“Suppose not,” I sigh again. “So, what do I owe the honor of this iteration of my imagination?”

“Got a question for you,” he grunts.

“Okaaayyy,” I drawl. I lean back in my chair, hands interlaced behind my head. “What’s up?”

“Why is it I’m a fucking Riddick clone?”

“What?” I bark out, laughing. “That’s ridiculous, you’re not...”

I take a good look at him. His shaved head, barrel chest, muscular torso, penchant for talking with descriptors such as ‘rumble,’ or ‘grunt,’ or ‘growl’...

“You don’t use shivs,” I reply weakly.

Keith laughs at me. “So between Sara and I, we make up one whole Riddick.”

“Hey, I could base you off of worse characters,” I complain. “Besides, you’re still based on my brother, more or less, just with some Riddick-like features.”

“Not buying it,” he smirks at me, arms crossed.

“I can still kill you off in my story,” I growl.

“Never happen,” he replies, smirk still firmly in place. “I’m too important a part of you. What did you figure out for the metaphor?”

“That Keith represents Dani’s strength,” I mumble.

“Right. And you’re going to need me more than ever, Dani’s going to need me, for episode 43 and beyond. Everything changes then.”

“It does, you’re right, stop being so smug about it,” I grumble irritably.

“Don’t worry, I like where you’re going with this. That workshop really helped, it’s given you some decent paths to take, shake things up a bit.” Keith smiles. “And all the killing isn’t half bad either.”

“Bloodthirsty today, are we?” I laugh. “And stop complimenting me, it’s weird having my own conscience do that, kinda like I’m giving myself a pat on the back.”

“Well we wouldn't want that, would we.”

“Oh,  _ bi zui _ ,” I snort back at him.


	4. Chapter 4

_ Almost 3am. Damn. At least I don’t have to get up for work tomorrow. Still, I gotta get sleep at some point. _

I stretch my arms above me, yawning widely. I could always  _ try  _ to sleep, since I just can’t get into the mood to write...

“You need to talk about this.”

I give a small yelp at the young girl’s voice from behind me. Spinning in my chair I see Sara sitting cross-legged on my bed, regarding me solemnly. 

“I  _ so _ do not want to talk about this,” I reply, knowing the conversation she wants to have.

“Fine,” Sara sighs. “I’ll talk, you listen.”

I give a groan and lean back in my chair. Tears are brimming in my eyes again, like they do every time I start to think about the subject.  _ Gorram hormones _ .

“It’s not your fault,” Sara begins.

“I know that,” I whisper back. “I do, really. I couldn’t have known about everything that was going on with... you. Well, the you that I based you on. We did what we could when we were still living there. Hell, she lived with us for a year.”

“And then her mom took her back home,” Sara commented quietly without rancor.

“Yes, dammit!” I almost shout. “She was safe! Even if I didn’t know about the physical abuse, I knew about the verbal abuse! She was miserable there, and happy with us! Why didn’t I do more, help her more...”

Sara looks at me intently. “It. Is. Not. Your. Fault.”

The tears are coming down again. “I feel so gorram useless...”

“But you’re doing what you can. Emails, offering to testify, bolstering her confidence, giving them your name for guardianship. What else can you do?”

I let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know. I wish I was closer.”

“You feel guilty for leaving Martinsburg. You feel guilty for having to move to Frederick, even though you couldn’t keep the house, and Donna was sick, and you were spending all your time driving her to treatment, which wasn’t helping her any. You feel guilty for leaving her behind.”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“And you know what I’m going to say, right?” Sara quirks a smile.

“I know, it’s not my fault. Still makes me sick to my stomach. She hasn’t had a door on her bedroom since she was seven. What little girl can grow up in that kind of environment with a father and brother in the house? I bet you her asshole rutting brother had a gorram door on his room. Fucker.”

“Angry is good,” Sara smiles again. 

“Oh, I’m plenty angry,” I reply, sighing. “Doesn’t do me any more good than the guilt, or the pain, or the feelings of uselessness.”

“And then there’s me,” Sara injects softly.

“Right,” I sigh again, not meeting her eyes. “And then there’s you. I had... no idea, when I started all of this, how much she was really suffering when I created your character. I always meant for you to have this horrific backstory, but that you’d come through in the end and have a family. You’d have your happy-ever-after.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in happy-ever-after,” Sara asks curiously.

I wave a hand in front of my face dismissively. “That’s just for me. I’m talking about my characters. Yes, even Dani who represents me, I’ll allow her a happy ending, like how she ended up with Lori, because she deserves it. Everyone does, Kelly included. But you, Sara...”

“Alright, so you’re feeling less guilty about what you  _ have  _ done to me than what you’re  _ going  _ to do to me,” she comments perceptively.

“Yeah, pretty much  _ baobei _ . I have this fantastic storyline planned out, episodes 44 and 45. Everything is gonna change. And it’s painful now for me to think about this, to write it about you, because you’re gonna go through hell again.”

“But then Dani rescues me, and does so in a way that divides the crew.”

“Right.”

“So I get back to the family,” Sara continues calmly.

“Also right.”

“And to my  _ Kaasan _ , and I’m stronger for the experience,” she continues as if I hadn’t spoken.

“Yes...”

“And you have the next episode, another nice and fluffy interlude planned. And you’re gonna make it up to me in there, right?” Sara looks at me expectantly.

“Well, yeah. I don’t know how much yet, but I want you to find, especially after the last episode, that you’re just a normal human girl after all that.”

“So I get my happy-ever-after.” She is smiling again at me, with such a look of trust and faith. It reminds me so much of the other girl, a girl who I think of as another daughter, I can feel my heart breaking.

“But I put you through so much shit to get there...”

“Alright then,” Sara says firmly. “Your problem here, is that you feel guilty for doing this  _ gou se _ to me while she’s going through all this, right?”

“Um. Right.”

“So take a break. You’ve got three episodes done and waiting on your Betas. Relax a little. Trial date is in only three days. After that, maybe you’ll have some resolution in your real life and you can pick it up again. That, or...” She pauses, looking at me as if gauging how I’ll react to her next words.

“Or what?” I whisper.

“Or change things. Either episodes 44 and 45, or the order of them, pull a few episodes up in the order and put off these ones that are giving you heartache.”

“Okay,” I muse. “I could maybe move this one on up. It doesn’t require the split in crew.”

“That could work,” she agrees. “It’s up to you, really.”

“Alright,” I sigh.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing for her, there’s nothing else that can be done, right?”

“Yeah, you’re right, again.”

“See, admitting you’re wrong, you’re becoming more woman-like all the time,” she giggles.

“Oh  _ bi zui _ ,” I chuckle back at her as I rub my chest. The breast buds are irritating me again.

“One more thing?” Sara asks as she gets up from the bed, walking towards the closet.  _ Why is my closet the portal for my subconscious anyways? _

“Sure,  _ baobei _ , what?”

“It’s not your fault,” she whispers, and then is gone.

I turn back to my computer, staring sightlessly at my open text document, laying out all my episodes in order.

“Yeah, I keep telling myself that,” I whisper back.


	5. Chapter 5

“Well, lookit that,” I muse. “Just a bit past midnight. Maybe I can actually get to sleep for a change at a decent time.”

“You could try,” a deep baritone sounds behind me.

I give a very girly squeal and jump slightly in my chair, spinning around to glare at Keith lounging on my bed. “Gorramit Keith, this ain’t the ruttin’ bridge of the  _ Favour _ . Announce yourself, for God’s sake.”

“Just did,” he smirks back, unrepentant.

I shake my head bemusedly, and lean back in my chair. “And what are you doing here, anyways?” I ask curiously.

“You want to talk about today?”

“What’s there to talk about?” I answer him with a question of my own. “I finally came out to my mom, my brother, and his wife. And it went amazingly well. And I don’t know why I’ve been such a coward to wait this long. And I’m happy beyond measure.”  I give him a skeptical look. “What am I missing?”

“You can let them read the story now,” he points out mildly.

“Right!” I exclaim. “Yes, I can! Okay, I’ll email them, now that there won’t be awkward questions about why the main character, who’s obviously supposed to be me, is a woman.”

“So,” he grunts, sitting up and crossing his legs (I scowl at the boots on my bed, but he ignores me), “your brother is cool with your being trans, as is his wife. Brought you closer together, maybe even. Still some trouble with your mom, but she’ll get past it.”

“Pretty much, yepper,” I smile contentedly.

“Who’s left now? Donna’s brother and his wife? And then her father?”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “Not so worried about Mike and Julie, er, sorry, Mark and Jenny, but yeah I know Nick will be more difficult. More so than Mom. Honestly, though, rejection from him won’t really bother me any.”

“No?”

“Nope.”

“Well okay then. Feeling good?”

I consider his question carefully. “Actually, yeah I am. Huge load off of my shoulders.”

“Good,” he grunts as he leverages himself up and walks towards the closet.

“Wait, what, that’s it?”

He turns back and smirks at me. “Yep, just checking up on you.”

“Awfully considerate for a conscience,” I laugh.

“I have my moments,” he chuckles, walking off.

“Right,” I smile, and pull my music list up. “So, tonight we’re going to be dancing to ‘Heartbeat Song’ while we get ready for bed. Any objections?”

I pause, head cocked, but hear nothing. “Alrighty then,” I smile as I hit play, then spin off to get my contacts out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of this chapter, written over a year after the others, I've moved through the Firefly fandom, through the MCU one, and am now actively writing within the RWBY-verse.

“Whelp,” I sigh, staring blearily at the monitor. “It’s ten at night. I should sleep. Really, I should… Gods, I’m tired. Why can’t I even try to sleep?”

“I can think of a few reasons,” a humorous voice chirps from behind me.

I turn in my seat, ponytail flailing around to whack me on the cheek. I was alone just a short while ago, I swear. Instead, now there’s a tall blonde, her long hair back in a braid, staring at me with twinkling coral eyes. She’s wearing, appropriately enough, a Beacon school uniform.

“Huh,” I reply intelligently. To be fair, it’s late. Not as late as I’ve been up before, true, but this is a new one. Haven’t had a visitation like this in… well…

“Over a year now,” the blonde smirks, lounging back on my bed with her hand tucked behind her head.

“Yeah, thanks… Pip… Wait, why are you here?” I blink in confusion. “Last time I went through this was with the Firefly fics…”

“And I’m your latest OC,” she nods cheerfully. “Well, one of ‘em, anyways.”

“Huh,” I repeat. Yeah, this is as good at it’s gonna get tonight, I can tell. I sigh in resignation and turn my chair around fully. Paramore is playing on the computer,  _ Still Into You _ . “Sooo… How’s Evie and Beryl, and Lustre?”

“Eh, well enough,” Pip shrugs. “The lovebirds are as cute as always, nice job with that by the way.”

“Oh, thanks,” I blush. “I had fun with them…”

“And Lustre, yeah, like you said before, still her badass self.”

“Right… So then, what’s up?”

“I dunno, babe,” she shrugs again. “You tell me.”

I sigh heavily. “Writer’s block?”

“Could be. But it seems like you’ve got all of  _ Ember _ mapped out now, even the one givin’ you trouble earlier.  _ Blood _ , yeah, sure, you’re gonna need to fill in more, but then you got this other new one,  _ Renegades _ , it’s lookin’ pretty sweet.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty excited for that, I just…” My pleased smile fades as I stare off across the room. “I… Maybe I miss the stories I just finished?”

“Well, the fluffy  _ Thorns _ was pretty nice.” Pip pulled her braid over her shoulder and toyed with it idly. “If you’re into that kinda thing.”

“Well, obviously, I am.”

“Obviously. Maybe it’s  _ Pearls _ then?”

I give her an uncomfortable shrug. “I really liked  _ Pearls _ , especially at the start, but then I just, I dunno… lost interest? I mean, I never stopped enjoying you girls, but it just got to be… too much of a chore. It’s why I struggled to put out one chapter a month.”

“Hmm.” Pip looks at me steadily. “When was the last time you took a break?”

“I don’t need breaks, this is my break!” I exclaim in exasperation, my hands flinging up. “Writing is supposed to be my outlet, my relaxation, my therapy!”

“Aha!”

“Um… aha?”

“You said  _ supposed to be _ your outlet. Is it still?”

“It… I mean…” I frown uncertainly. “Well, yeah, isn’t it?”

“Is it?”

“I don’t… I dunno, yeah, I mean I love writing…”

The blonde nods firmly. “But it’s not doin’ what it used to. You’re so fucking stressed about work, about life, about transitioning and everything, you can’t keep your head on straight enough to let it work.”

“I just…” My head drops back and I close my eyes wearily. “I’m so fucking tired,” I murmur. “Tired of… all the bullshit at work, at being overworked… And I’m just... “ I swallow as the hot tears threaten to escape once more. “I’m lonely,” I whisper. Pathetically, in my own ears.

“You’re not pathetic,” Pip assures me quietly. “You’re human.”

“Well, being human sucks,” I retort, close to a sob. “Feelings suck. Why aren’t I getting better at this? Why can’t I keep it all pushed down?”

“Because, babe,” she murmurs. “That’s not dealing with it, just pushin’ it down lets it fester and sit there, building up until you can’t function again. You’ve come close, y’know. Close to having an honest-to-Oum panic attack.”

“I know.”

“You gotta deal with it.”

“I don’t know how,” I whisper despondently. “I thought maybe if I stopped… stopped saying goodnight to her every night, telling her how I miss her, and love her… Maybe then I could move on. Why can’t I move on?”

The bed creaks. I open my eyes to see her face close to mine, coral eyes glimmering with unshed sympathetic tears. “I can’t tell you that,” she states softly. “I’m just a representation of your psyche, if you knew then I could tell you. But ignoring it isn’t gonna help.”

“No, it won’t. Is this why I can’t seem to write like I used to?” I grab a tissue and blow my nose loudly.  _ Yeah, real ladylike. _ “Am I tying myself up in knots with stress, and it’s blocking me?”

Pip sat back, her long legs folded under her. “Do you still wanna write?”

“Fuck yes, I’ve got so much left, so many stories I want to tell… I just… I can’t seem to summon up the energy. The… the motivation, the  _ drive _ to want to write like I used to.”

The blonde gives me another nod, this one reassuring. “Then take a break. You got, what, one each of  _ Blood _ and  _ Ember _ done?”

“Yeah, but I need to keep going with  _ Ember _ if I’m gonna finish up by Christmas, I gotta get it done before I can do the holiday special I want-”

“Babe,” she interrupts gently. “Listen to yourself. You  _ need _ to keep going? You  _ gotta _ get it done? This is supposed to be relaxing, not work. Other authors like Jeffardi churn out stuff far more infrequently.”

“Kaiju doesn’t,” I mumble unconvincingly.

“Zach already has his story written out,” she reminds me. “That’s why he can publish several chapters a week. And that’s why you’re working on  _ Renegades _ before publishing it, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, then, give yourself a break. Stop pushing yourself to write.”

“Then what do I do?” I ask, desperation lacing my words. “What do I do to relax, to destress?”

“Well,” she grins, leaning back on her elbows. “I know what always manages to relax  _ me _ …”

“Ew, stop,” I pout. “Firstly, you’re damn lucky I wrote you as hetero, it’s a rarity in my stories.”

“I noticed,” she murmurs, but I ignore her and continue.

“Secondly, how exactly am I supposed to take care of that without a partner?”

The blonde glanced over at my endtable, then back at me, wagging her eyebrows outrageously.

“How do you… Fuckwaffles.”

“Psyche, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah.. Just…” I know I’m blushing furiously at this point. “It’s not the same,” I finally mutter.

“I know it’s not. But ya gotta make do with what you got, right?”

“Ugh,” I groan, flopping my head back against the chair again. “I’m still lonely.”

“I know, babe,” Pip whispers. “Can’t do anything about that. But… try to take care of yourself a little better, yeah?”

“Why, Pip,” I try to joke weakly. “I didn’t know you cared.”

“Of course I do, you ass,” she retorts but without any heat. Her coral eyes are warm and compassionate. “You do have so much more to tell, so many more stories to lift up your readers… But how are you gonna do that if you make yourself sick? Or worse? You’ve still got one girl at home, I mean, yeah she’s sixteen, but still dependent on you. You gonna let her down?”

“No,” I reply quietly but firmly. “Never have, never will. My girls are the only reason I kept going before.”

“Then think of them now,” Pip reminds me softly. “Think of them the next time you overeat or drink or skip on sleep at night. Think of them the next time someone at works gets under your skin and builds up your stress levels. You joke about feeding your ulcer, but if you’re not careful you just might get one.”

“Yeah.” I close my eyes once more. “I don’t want to leave my job. Yeah, I’m lazy and don’t like change, but I liked my job. Like. I like the job I used to do, and sometimes still get to do.”

“Then stop putting up with shit,” Pip snarks. “Put it in the fuckit bucket.”

“Right,” I smile. “I’ll put it in the fuckit bucket. Thanks, Pip.”

I open my eyes, but the bed is empty once more. Still I can hear her whisper across my mind.

“You’re welcome, Brie.”

I smile gently and turn back to the computer. We’ll see how tomorrow goes, I won’t force it, but if nothing happens then I’ll skip the following week, give myself a break.

I owe it to myself.


End file.
